‘Hello Mr God sir. It’s me, its Kurt again.

I guess you must be really busy with all the miracles and special things you have to do up in heaven so that has to be why you didn’t hear my prayer last night. And I said it out loud that time as well, in case you couldn’t hear inside of my head. I have to say this one in my head right now though, ‘cause we aren’t allowed to speak, we have to be quiet.’

The procession marched along the pebbled pathway methodically, clad in black they drag themselves to keep up with the pace of others around them. The dark box leading them was overflowing with misery and grief, the contents known by all that had attended this dire event.

The procession slows to a stop as the reach the rectangular hole in the ground prepared to swallow the lost loved one. The priest begins his speech.

Little Kurt doesn’t hear a word.

He’s too busy staring, staring at the horrid black box decorated with the wrong flowers. They put lilies and white roses around it. Kurt knows she would have wanted sunflowers, or maybe daisies. But not the sickly white coloured flowers that draped the edges of coffin. Kurt’s eyes drag themselves away and his eyes rest on the large wooden cross hung above the door of the church. He starts to pray again.

‘Mr God sir my head hurts, and my heart. Everything hurts really. My mommy would know how to make it all better.

But she has to go away now.

That’s what daddy says anyway. She has to go far, far away, to a place called heaven. Daddy says that’s where the angels live. They live with you, up in the stars.

But the thing is, I still need her, daddy still needs her too. We don’t want to give her away okay?

So can you please, pretty please send her back Mr God sir? You have to hurry though we are saying our goodbyes soon. I hope you can hear me, the weird vicar man says that you hear everybody, you know he is one who’s breath smells of tuna but you can’t say anything to him like “you should really eat a tic-tac” cause it would be bad manners…I did that once. I got told off by mommy, my daddy laughed when I told him though. But I apologised and I apologised to you as well seeing as he is kind of your right hand man. I asked you to help my mummy get better that night as well; nothing happened that time, or any of the other times I asked for stuff, I wish you were quicker at fixing things. I’ve been sending messages to you for a while now, for ages and ages.

Nothing ever happens.’

“Kurt…Kurt buddy.”

He looks up into the eyes of his father, they’re full of tears. They are always full of tears now.

“It’s your turn to say goodbye now.”

“Oh, okay.” Kurt sways on his feet, and in that moment he knows that God didn’t hear him.

“Go on buddy.” His father’s voice catches in his throat and tears run down his face relentlessly.

Kurt lets go of his father’s hand and walks nearer to the coffin, it’s in the ground now. He missed that part. Kurt squeezes his eyes shut tight and begins to talk, he pretends it’s just really dark and his mommy is standing right there in front of him but he just can’t see her.

“Mommy,” Kurt starts his voice wavering uncertain, she is already gone, and she’s with the angels now. His chance to say good bye was stolen from him already. “Mommy, I love you.” Kurt doesn’t know what to say, his mind is blank. It’s not that he doesn’t want to say goodbye, it’s just that his heart is hurting so bad he can’t think right. Kurt remembers his mommy singing to him whenever he was upset or ill. It always made him better. So Kurt decides to try and do the same, to return the favour.

Kurt begins to sing.

“Raindrops on roses…and-and whiskers on kittens, bright copper…kettles and warm woollen mittens. Brown paper packages tied up with strings, these are a few of my-my favourite things.”

The crowd around him begins to murmur softly as Kurt little voice echoes around the silent graveyard.
“Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes, snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes. Silver white winters that melt into springs. These are a few of my favourite things.” His small notes gain confidence as he tries desperately to fix something far beyond repair.
“When the dog bites, when the bee stings when I'm feeling sad. I simply remember my favourite things and … and…a…” Kurt begins to cry. He stands shaking and sobbing his eyes still squeezed tight shut.

Suddenly his father scoops him up and together they sob into each other’s shoulders as the most important woman in their lives is buried beneath the ground.

***

Kurt stands on the sidewalk outside of the church, he is waiting for daddy. He wants to go home.

His head hurts more now, and his eyes do. He couldn’t stop crying in the church.

Everyone keeps asking him silly questions and sayings stuff he doesn’t understand.

They said that he was a brave little boy.

He isn’t really and how would they know that any way? And Kurt isn’t a little boy anymore. He has to make his own breakfast, and clean his room properly and run his own bath. He has to dress himself in the morning and do his own hair so it looks good. ‘Cause Daddy forgets to do all of that sometimes. He sits in front of the telly in the same clothes eating pop tarts.

He argues with the telly as well.

Kurt thought he was just being silly the first time and he started laughing. But then he got really angry and started shouting, so Kurt ran to his room and hid underneath the covers.

Daddy had started crying again then. He said he was sorry, very, very sorry. But Kurt still stays in the room whenever he starts getting mad at the telly.

Kurt sighs to himself kicking at the loose stones scattered across the sidewalk. Daddy said he would only be a minute, Kurt thinks it has been a lot longer than that.

Everyone has gone home already. Daddy is trying to say good bye again. He can’t do it properly, Mummy is gone now, but he keeps trying all the same. He says it’s because his real goodbye wasn’t good enough, and now he regrets it.

Kurt had asked him what ‘regret’ meant.

Daddy had says it’s like the time when Kurt was making Mummy a valentine’s day card and he decided to spray perfume over the card to make it smell pretty, but then he dropped the bottle and it had smashed everywhere and when mummy ran into the room she cut her foot on one of the sharp bits. He said the feeling Kurt had after that incident was ‘regret’. Regret for being so silly to think he could handle something breakable when he has very little hands.

Kurt had started crying again then, he hadn’t meant to be so clumsy, he wanted to make the best card ever.

Daddy said he knew that, it wasn’t Kurt’s fault, accidents happen.

Kurt said maybe it was just an accident that Daddy hadn’t said goodbye properly when he should have done, it wasn’t his fault either.

Then he made Kurt wait outside.

“Well, hello littl’un.” A rough male voice startles Kurt, he spins round quickly surprised, he’d thought everyone had left all ready.

In the spin he loses his balance toppling forward, a large arm shoots out catching him.

Kurt glances upwards eyes wide.

He is greeted with the sight of a middle aged man. He has a scraggy beard lining his face which is shadowed by the hood of his brown coat. His skin is a sickly pale colour with black dragging bags circling his eyes.

The stranger’s odd eyes are what startle Kurt the most. One brown, one blue filled with a piercing emotion he can’t quite place.

A curious odour wafts towards Kurt who wrinkles his nose “Who are you?” he asks quizzically somewhat horrified by the man’s appearance.

“I’m, I’m…” The man eyes roam the area for some sort of inspiration, they land on a deserted grave “…an angel.”

Kurt’s eyes crinkle in confusion. He can’t be an angel. He’s…he’s ugly and disgusting. Angels are pretty and angelic, like his mum. Kurt looks the man up and down again taking in his appearance

“You’re late.”

“Erm…right sorry?” He smirks in amusement, this is going to be a hell of a lot easier then he thought.

“Do you know where my mummy is? Are you going to bring her back?” Kurt demands an answer placing his small hands on his waist.

“Yeah sure why not?” The man shrugs nodding over to a shiny car not too far away, “Tell you what I’ll take you to her myself.”

“Really?” Kurt gasps out. Something in the back of his mind tells him something isn’t quite right about this person but it is pushed away with the complicated joy of seeing his mother again.

“Yup, here look just get in my car over here.” He points now, chuckling to himself.

“You can drive to heaven?”

“Priceless,” The man snickers shaking his head at the young boy, “Yeah kid you can drive to heaven, just happens that God’s such a bastard he didn’t think to mention in it the fucking Bible.” The he spits sloppily onto the sidewalk. Kurt lets out a small gasp of horror “What?” The man asks in confusion.

“You said…you.” Kurt stutters, not sure at all of what to make of this angel. He isn’t so sure that he is one really. Kurt thinks he might be lying.

“Oh right, 8 year old year kid, naïve as a frickin’ baby penguin.” The angel mutters to himself rolling his odd eyes. “Look littl’un do you want to go to heaven or not?”

“...yes I…oh.”

“What’s up now?” He moans in annoyance.

“I’m not meant to get into cars with strangers, sorry.” Kurt whispers, he doesn’t want to get into the car with this man who is most definitely is sure is not an angel now. The feeling is stronger now, warning bells sound in his head.

“Okay…well a stranger is a person right? As in a human being?” Kurt nods warily, “But I’m an angel remember, not a human, so I can’t be a stranger can I?”

“Oh, well I suppose…” His heart is beating way to fast and his hands have gone sticky and clammy.

“Look kid do you want to see your mum again or not?”

“Yes of course I do!” He cries out indignantly. The man turns and begins to walk away towards the shiny black car, glancing over his shoulder every so often. Kurt remains where he stands swaying cautiously. He doesn’t know what to do, he’s so confused.

“Get a move on then kid.” The man calls back.

“Oh, wait! Please! My, my daddy, he has to see her too, he has to say good bye properly!” Kurt shouts out, he turns and begins to walk quickly up the church path. He smiles to himself proudly, Daddy will sort it out he knows what to do.

“Fucking hell.” The man swears under his breath, “No kid stop!” He runs towards him scooping the tiny child into his arms. “Just get into the fucking car already!”

Kurt panics now wriggling and twisting in his arms.

“No! No stop it!” He shouts, they reach the car and he feels himself being shoved into a very small tight place. His mouth is being covered by a slimy greasy hand; he begins to scream, “NO PLEASE, NO! DADDY! DADDY-“

***

Burt Hummel is kneeling in front of the alter; he has been there a good hour now. He can’t leave.

“Please, Elizabeth I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should have been able to save you. But I didn’t, I couldn’t. Oh god what am, I meant to do? How can I look after Kurt without you? He keeps asking questions about you, about heaven about things I don’t know the answer to. I’m trying my best; I can’t do any more than that. No, I have to try harder I’m all he’s got left now. Oh god Elizabeth why did you leave us? Why? What did we do wrong, what did I do wrong? Why did you leave us? Why did you leave me?” His prayer trails off into heaving sobs that rack through his bulky frame.

“Mr Hummel?” A tentative voice sounds from behind him. Burt turns to see the vicar his owns tears unshed in his eyes. He approaches the heart broken man, “It won’t get better for staying. Go home, rest eat. Look after your little boy, he needs you.”

Kurt.

How long has he been waiting outside for? Burt can’t remember what time he’d ordered the poor kid out of the church. Elizabeth wouldn’t have done that; she’d have known what to do. His body seizes up as memories are dredged up to the surface of his weary mind.

“Will it stop hurting?” He croaks out, clearing his throat self-consciously he glances to the see the vicar shaking his head regretfully.

“It will hurt less as the years go by Mr Hummel, for now you must soldier on I’m afraid. Just remember her, the good things.” The vicar offers his advice hoping desperately the young man listens. Burt simple nods, grabbing his coat he heads out of the church giving a simple look of thanks as words could not possible cover the help the old man had provided for them.

As he exists the church he looks around hoping to spot Kurt quickly, he’d told him to wait outside the front of the church but he wouldn’t have put it past the small child to have wandered off somewhere as he often did caught up in whatever went through the peculiar mind he had.

“Kurt?” He calls out, expecting him to come running round the corner, he walks once round the outside of the church briskly, worry bubbling inside of him. Anxiously he swallows his fears convincing himself he is simply over reacting, Kurt has to be somewhere, “Hey buddy where ar-“

“No! No stop it! Daddy! DADDY!-“ His calls is cut off by the heart-breaking cries of his panicked son.

“Oh my god no, KURT!” Burt yells out running towards the direction of the scream. He feels sick as he stumbles out on to the street in time to see a tall man wearing a filthy over coat shoving a small child into a silky black BMW. The child gives another screech frantically trying to wriggle out of the man’s arms.

Burt’s vision goes red as his sprints towards the monster, “GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY SON!” He runs full pelt into the man’s side knocking him backwards.  Burt spins round hurriedly searching for his son, but before he can he is shoved sideways as he falls to the pavement he hears the door of the car slam shut “NO!” He cries out jumping onto his feet, he’s too late.

The car is speeding down the road, Burt races towards his own vehicle but he knows he’s too slow. Ignoring that obvious fact he hurries to chase after the car but it’s not soon before he loses sight of it.

He keeps driving and driving, continuously searching. He can barely see around him as the tears stream endlessly down his face his whole figure shaking in terror. He grips at the steering wheel like a lifeline. His whole world is crashing down.

Eventually his car shudders to a stop as the petrol finally disappears. Rain pelts down onto his windscreen. He doesn’t make a move to leave the rusty shelter as other driver’s blare their horns at him. When the police turn up to retrieve him asking him questions he can’t hear. It’s like he’s underwater struggling to do anything. How could this have happened?

He failed, as a husband, as a father.

A single cry escapes his lips as he is pushed into the back of the officer’s car and driven away.

“Kurt…I’m sorry…”